Summer of 1978 wasn’t just a season.

It was a feeling.

It was the heat in the air, the roar of guitars, the laughter of friends, and the sense that anything was possible. I had graduated from high school in the spring of 1977 and spent the next year at Iowa State University in Ames, Iowa in their Mechanical Engineering program. By the time May 1978 rolled around, I had completed my freshman year, and I was ready for a summer break.

I pulled into the driveway on Thursday, May 25th, exhausted after the six hour drive home. No welcome home breakfast, no big announcement, just the quiet comfort of being back in familiar surroundings.

My plan was simple: sleep.

Deep, undisturbed sleep.

But life had other plans.

I remember that morning like it was yesterday. I was wrapped in blankets, still in that post–road–trip stupor, when I heard the phone ring. My mom answered — I didn’t know who was on the other end, but I could hear her say, “He’s not available. He’s still sleeping.” Perfect. So I thought. Soon after, someone was knocking at the door. Before I knew it, my friend Doug was in my bedroom, practically shaking me awake.

“Hey! There’s a concert in Milwaukee today. Want to go?”

I don’t remember brushing my teeth, packing a bag, or even fully waking up — I just remember the grin on Doug’s face and the word that came out of my mouth without hesitation:

“Yeah!”

We jumped in the car and headed east. It is about a 2 1/2 hour drive.

May 26th - Jefferson Starship at Milwaukee County Stadium

The gates opened at 1 p.m. at the Milwaukee County Stadium, the music started at 4 p.m., and by midnight, we were worn out — but totally alive. That night, Jefferson Starship was the headliner, and sharing the bill were Nazareth, Foreigner, and Bob Welch. Welch's “Sentimental Lady”, and “Ebony Eyes” were two of my favorites back then. I can also still hear the harmonies from Starship's "Runaway" and "Count on Me" as I allow my mind to wander back to that day.

We were sitting in the seats just behind home plate at Milwaukee County Stadium, looking out across the diamond toward the stage set up deep in the outfield. From that vantage point, the entire infield was a sea of people—concertgoers packed shoulder to shoulder, blankets spread out on the grass, coolers and libations tucked close by, all of it buzzing with a relaxed, carefree party atmosphere. The sun was starting to fade, the music carried across the open stadium, and from where I sat, it felt like the whole place had been transformed from a ballpark into something entirely different—a shared summer gathering where everyone was there for the same reason: great music, good company, and the simple joy of being young and free.

Those hours under the open sky, sun-baked and filled with friends, were the perfect start. They set the tone for a summer framed by music, spontaneity, and unforgettable moments.

August 2 — Eagles at Milwaukee County Stadium

Two months later, on August 2, we were back at Milwaukee County Stadium for what had to be one of the most iconic tours of the era: the Eagles’ Hotel California tour. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t remember where they were when that album was blasting over radios everywhere. And there I was, right in the middle of it.

The lineup was electric: The Eagles anchored the show with the original members— a constellation of talent that could’ve stopped the heart of anyone within earshot. But that night wasn’t just about the headliners. We also soaked in fantastic performances by the Steve Miller Band and Pablo Cruise, both commanding the stage with unforgettable energy.

The concert stage felt almost cinematic, especially once the sun went down and the stage lights came up to reveal the backdrop—a massive recreation of the Hotel California album cover spread across the outfield like a mural. Seeing that iconic image brought to life, glowing behind the band, was surreal, as if the album itself had stepped off the turntable and into the stadium. And there they were, all together—Don Henley, Glenn Frey, Joe Walsh, Don Felder, and Timothy B. Schmit—an extraordinary collection of talent standing in front of the very artwork that had already become legendary. The music, the visuals, and the sheer presence of that lineup created a moment that felt bigger than a concert; it felt like witnessing a chapter of rock history unfold in real time.

That night was the kind of concert that, even decades later, still sends a tingle down the spine when you think of the chords and lights and the way the music felt bigger than real life.

August 16 — Electric Light Orchestra (ELO) at Dane County Coliseum

If the Eagles concert was iconic, then August 16 was, without a doubt, cosmic. We piled into a van driven by Kevin and headed to Dane County Coliseum. Our destination: Electric Light Orchestra’s Out of the Blue tour. Imagine a spaceship on stage — big, loud, and electric, with lights, lasers, and sound that felt like it was reshaping the room. That fleet of synthesizers and violins and guitars gave off a vibe like we were inside a sci-fi dream rather than a concert hall.

Kevin was probably as excited as any of us — I know he’d been talking about seeing ELO long before the date ever arrived — and we were all there, a knot of friends sharing the wonder that only live music can deliver.

That night, the spaceship wasn’t just a prop. It was a portal — a way into that timeless feeling of total immersion, where reality melts and all that exists are the notes, the rhythm, and your own heartbeat keeping time.

Friends, Freedom, and Spontaneity

There was no grand plan to that summer.

No itinerary. No color-coded spreadsheet.

Somebody had an idea — “Let’s go to this concert” — and we just went.

That’s the thing about youth. You don’t calculate. You leap.

And in that leap, you find memories that stay with you forever.

We had the freedom to roll down the windows, crank up the radio, and chase music across state lines. We had the kind of friendships that make ordinary moments extraordinary. We had that weightless feeling of summertime promise — a feeling you carry with you even when you’re decades older.

I don’t remember every ticket stub, every lyric we shouted, or every moment between the gigs. But I remember how it felt — the laughter, the heat, the noise of the crowd, and the faces of the people who mattered most.

That summer wasn’t just about concerts.

It was about living.

It was about friendship, spontaneity, youth, and music that felt like it was written just for us.

And I’ll always be grateful for it —

for the friends like Doug, Sue Ann, Chris, Kevin, and all the others who were part of that days-long soundtrack.

Because some summers don’t end.

They stay with you.

Forever.